


And after the spanking...

by Elysandra



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Birthday Spanking, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, Pompt: ritual, steampunk!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elysandra/pseuds/Elysandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Traditions are important!</p>
            </blockquote>





	And after the spanking...

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in my Steampunk!AU. Fill for the prompt 'ritual' on my KinkBingo card.  
> Unbetaed, but hopefully not too bad ;)

Seldom had Katelyn been this glad to step into Lady Helen’s bedroom.

“Thank god,” she moaned, shutting the door and slumping against it - as much as one could slump in a tight corset. “That was awful!”

“It was a dinner party befitting my lady companion’s 30th birthday,” Lady Helen replied calmly, showing no hint of tiredness as she strode across the room, nor of the boredom Katelyn had been fighting all evening. She hated dinner parties, having to sit in a stiff gown with equally as stiff guests all around her, making stiff conversation - or lewd, in some cases, which wasn’t much better. And as she’d recently found out it was even worse when it took place at ‘home’ with no task of exploring possible hunting grounds nor any chance to leave early when it became completely unbearable.

“I thought you’d said you would make sure I enjoyed my birthday.”

Straightening wearily, Katelyn followed her Lady across the room, preparing to help her out of her jewelry and garments and prepare for bed. While Helen did sit down in front of the vanity, though, she sat with her back to the mirror, facing Katelyn.

“And I fully intend to keep that promise, Katelyn. But tradition is important!”

Katelyn caught her own reflection in the mirror as she tugged off her long red gloves, delicate silk that matched her dress and felt just as horribly confining as the tight corset and the endless mass of cloth called a skirt that was nearly impossible to run in, let alone fight. But events that warranted such gowns were about a very different kind of fighting, she guessed. It definitely wasn’t her kind of fight, even though Helen insisted she learn.

“I was thinking hot birthday sex,” she grouched, fighting the urge to throw the gloves in the general direction of the nearest furniture, knowing the Lady didn’t take well to messiness.

“I was thinking firm birthday spanking.”

The words took a moment to register with Katelyn. When she turned her head in surprise, her Lady was watching her calmly, sitting up straight and elegant as always on the cushioned stool, the unusual position suddenly making far too much sense. Katelyn’s eyes widened and she felt a sudden rush of gratefulness for not having flung the gloves on the ground. Her hands tightened around the silk.

“Are you serious?” she asked, even though she knew the Lady wouldn’t bring this up unless she intended to go through with it. “It’s my birthday!”

“Exactly.” Lady Helen was obviously unmoved by the pout her lady companion couldn’t or wouldn’t quite keep off her face. “Traditions are important, Katelyn. I really need you to take them seriously. Now assume the position. The sooner we get the birthday spanking done the sooner we can get to the ‘hot’ birthday sex.” She stressed Katelyn’s favourite description with a wry tug of her lips that gave Katelyn the sudden urge to grip her delicately pinned up hair and kiss her senseless.

“Bloody traditions,” she grumbled instead, placing her gloves on the edge of the vanity cabinet, then bending awkwardly across the Lady’s knees, her gown and corset hindering her usual grace. Not that she ever felt graceful assuming positions for punishment. But today the very reminder of her stiff dress code for tonight caused the faint tingling low in her stomach to intensify. It had accompanied her all evening, every step she made beside Lady Helen as they moved across the room, greeting guests and making light conversation as everyone wanted to congratulate her. Reaching 30 years of age seemed to be a huge accomplishment judging by the opulent words directed her way. It was almost laughable knowing she was standing next to a woman many times her age. She’d had to suffer through it all because Lady Helen was quite set on the importance of catering to society’s traditions. She’d learnt more about rules and traditions in the short months since she’d become Helen Magnus’ lady companion than she’d ever even heard of in her whole life before that. And the Lady expected her to know them and follow or side-step them in the most delicate and efficient way possible so as to further their own goals. To Lady Helen, corsets and gowns and words were as much a weapon as any gun, and she wielded them gracefully.

Katelyn couldn’t help but feel like a sword being formed in the forge of society and its traditions, formed under the unrelenting blows of Lady Helen’s iron will.

Her own thoughts turned the tingling into the slow pulse of arousal. Quickened pulse and shallow breathing caused her face to flush as she reached down to steady herself with her fingers on the floor, balancing awkwardly. This wasn’t their usual position. There was no hand holding her wrists, nothing holding her in place. Just the weight of tradition the Lady expected her to follow holding her down and in place as Lady Helen lifted her skirts, gathering them in the small of her back so her other hand could quickly pull her white undergarments down and off over her knee high boots, leaving her bare to the room’s cool breeze and her Lady’s eyes.

She barely had time to take a deep breath before the Lady began to spank her, and spank her hard, counting each blow out loud in that calm voice of hers. Again and again her hand met Katelyn’s steadily reddening bottom, doling out stinging pain and growing heat for no other reason but to impress the importance of tradition. Katelyn tried to retain her composure, but the increasing burning of her skin and the subsequently growing heat in certain other parts of her body made it impossible for her to stay silent, let alone keep still. She was moaning freely in what she couldn’t specify as pain or arousal and rocking helplessly against Lady Helen’s strong thigh by the time the Lady announced “Thirty.”

In a twisted mix of relief and disappointment, Katelyn just kept rocking when she wasn’t told to stand, hissing lowly when the hand that had just doled out the painful lesson began to rub the glowing heat of her buttocks, causing the burning to intensify and her movements to grow more desperate.

“I think we’re done,” the Lady said. “Unless you have something to say, Katelyn?” She held her hand pressed flatly against the curve of Katelyn’s buttocks, low where cheeks met thighs. The unexpected touch of her thumb slipping between wet and swollen folds caused Katelyn’s arousal to skyrocket and she moaned long and low.

_Not done not done not done,_ she chanted in her head in time with her jerky movement against a thigh too well covered by layers and layers of soft cloth. She needed more! She needed that thumb to press against her, to slip further down and rub against her flesh with every rock of her hips. She needed thumb and finger to span the length of her quim and those nails to dig into her burning skin and for that hand to be covered in her juices as it pressed unrelentingly into her wet heat.

She _needed_ to think of something to say!

“Thank you, Lady Helen,” she managed to say on breathy moans. “Thank you for, for teaching me-” she gasped when the Lady moved her hand, gripping her almost exactly the way she’d wished for. Her rocking grew desperate, head hanging low and pulsing in time with her rapid pulse, hair falling freely around her flushed face from the elaborate knot it had been pinned up in. She found herself pressing her heated cheeks into the soft dark cloth of her Lady’s gown, permeated with the heady scent of her skin and her perfume, heavenly darkness surrounding her and highlighting the contrast to her bare skin up on the Lady’s lap. Her breathing had been reduced to shallow, rapid gasps of air, loud huffs in the otherwise quiet room, muffled only by the cloth against her mouth. It was an obscene staccato that made it hard to force out the final words. “The, the im-importance of- taking traditions- seriously...”

The Lady had been circling what had become the center of Katelyn’s whole perception with the pad of her thumb, a burning touch in time with the words she’d managed somehow to form, pushing her further and further until, with the last word, she pressed down and Katelyn soared.

 

~~~

 

She opened her eyes to the warm gaze of Helen looking down at her. Soft blankets warmed her from beneath, the burning of where they touched her bruised behind an efficient reminder of what had happened. The scent of her perfume mixed with burning wood filled her nose as she breathed in, and she realised she could breath freely, unrestricted. It was a relief, but she quickly forgot about it as the caress of her Lady’s fingers ghosting over her very naked body grew more intent.

“Glad to see you survived,” Helen said, smirking down at her.

“Barely,” Katelyn pouted, or tried to. Her mind was still hazy, clouded with the pleasure of her recent completion, already sparking anew under Helen’s competent touch. A sudden thought helped focus her mind quickly.

“Does that mean I get to spank _you_ when it’s your birthday?”

Fingers paused in their explorations, and Helen raised one delicate eyebrow, studying her young companion for one long, increasingly worrying moment.

“Cheeky,” she finally said, fingers picking up where they’d left off. “Do you really think your hand will be up to delivering 174 slaps?”

Katelyn turned onto her side, happy to get her weight off her still smarting backside as well as finding Helen gloriously naked right next to her.

“Hm.” She shrugged non-committally, quickly becoming distracted by trailing the impressions on the toned stomach before her, left behind by the tight hold of the corset.

“I’d make sure you are certain if I were you.”

The Lady caught a perky nipple between two of her fingers, rolling it slowly between the knuckles until Katelyn looked up at her.

“If you’d have to switch hands or take a break you’d have forfeited the rest and I would delight to take over and redden your lovely derriere with them.”

Katelyn gaped, the very idea of that happening making her bottom seem to burn even more.

“I never heard of _that_ rule!” she protested.

The Lady smirked.

“That’s because it’s one of my own. One tends to come up with quite a few as the decades pass.”

Katelyn shifted uneasily.

“I’ll think about it. It’s still some time away, after all.”

And maybe she’d come across other interesting traditions until then.

Hopefully...


End file.
